


By Their Covers — The Scriptor

by Ynnealay



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Badass Adrien, Badass Marinette, Brave Marinette, Civilians, English & French Terms, F/M, Flustered Adrien, Identity Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-24 02:03:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6137509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ynnealay/pseuds/Ynnealay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marinette and Adrien are separated from their miraculouses and their kwamis. Paris can do without Ladybug and Chat Noir for an hour or two, right? Unfortunately, no. Cue an attack by an akumatized Parisian. Cluelessly thrown thrown together as civilians, Marinette and Adrien work with each other to save Paris as usual, only they don't know exactly how usual it is. Spending the day with Marinette makes Adrien notice things about her that he never realized before, and of course Marinette is thrilled to spend her day with Adrien, regardless of circumstance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

“Stop staring, Alya!” Marinette pleaded, gripping the cheap bus seats, “He’ll turn around!”

“ _I’m_ not the one staring,” Alya laughed, “ _I’ve_ been looking out the window—you’re the who can’t keep her eyes off the back of Adrien’s head.”

It was true, Adrien was sitting with Nino in the seat right in front of the two girls and just the way his hair kept swooshing back and forth was enough to make Marinette swoon. Not literally, of course, but she _was_ turning quite red.

“Alya!” she exclaimed, “He’ll hear you!”

The bus went over a speed bump and Marinette yelped in surprise when she was catapulted forward into the back of Adrien’s seat. The beautiful blond turned around, surprised.

She froze, and waved at him awkwardly, blushing hard. He smiled and nodded, then turned back around.

“I’m hopeless,” muttered Marinette into her hands. Alya put a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

* * *

“This library houses some of the most ancient tomes and scriptures ever written…” said the teacher, speaking to her students as they filed into the library, “Remember, we are not only here to learn, but as a representation of Collège Françoise Dupont, so everyone be on their best behavior.”

Marinette looked up at the tall roller ladders and imagined it would be a pretty dangerous fall from the top. She took a step forward, only to be stopped by a gloved hand.

“Put your bag in the plastic bin and step through the metal detector,” said the security guard. Marinette unslung her purse and put it in the X-ray machine tray, watching Tikki wink at her from inside as she disappeared behind the black rubber curtain.

“Okay, and step through please, we need to make sure no one has any metal that could damage the collection.”

The detector went off with a shrill beep, and Marinette stepped forward quickly in alarm. She started searching her pockets— she wasn’t carrying anything that would have set off—

“Your earrings, please.”

“Wha— oh, my earrings?” she said, touching her ears, “Could I just, um, keep them on? They’re kind of special to me.” Marinette couldn’t remember the last time she had taken off her miraculous… the last time she had been without them must have been before she even became Ladybug.

To her credit, the security guard actually looked apologetic, “I know it doesn’t make complete sense, but it’s policy. We’ll keep your things safe, I guarantee.”

Marinette bit her lip and stole a glance behind her. Adrien was staring at her. Not looking—staring. She was probably holding up the line, and she didn’t want to cause a disturbance. Marinette cringed and unclipped her miraculous, putting them away in her purse, which has passed through the X-ray machine. Other library workers were already separating her objects and putting them in little cases.

“Tikki,” Marinette whispered urgently.

“Don’t worry, Marinette,” said the little bug, “I can’t stray far from your miraculous… I’ll be right here when you get back. Tell me if you see any books on Ladybug, okay? I think what you find might surprise you.”

Marinette smiled. “Okay,” she said. It felt cold suddenly; she felt lacking without her earrings.

As she walked away, she saw Adrien go next, taking off something of his own with a look of concern. Marinette fiddled with her earlobe nervously; it had been a full week since the last akuma attack, and although she was grateful for the time to catch up on schoolwork, she knew that soon Hawkmoth would transform another. She would just have to hope that Paris wouldn’t need Ladybug for another day.

* * *

Tammy walked through the shelves pushing her cart, re-shelving some books. She had memorized the categorizing system in this section by heart, having worked in the library for three years. She walked without looking up, her arms were draped over the cart handles, editing some of her own writing in her notebook. The library was quiet as libraries should be, soundtracked by the flipping of pages and the rolling sound of pens.

The library had recently come under new management, but the system was still the same, it was the same library, and she wasn’t bothered with paying too much attention to shelves she already knew.

“Miss Fleury.” Suddenly, her manager’s hand was on her shoulder. She turned around, startled. He was a poised man with silver hair and wide shoulders, with a hard-set expression carved into his soft facial features. He sounded quite irritated. Her old manager had retired a week ago, and this new one… well, he didn’t like her, and that was putting it lightly.

“Yes, sir?”

“ _What_ are you doing?” he gestured to her notebook disapprovingly.

She swallowed hard. “J-just writing some things?” It came out as a question, timid like she hadn’t meant it to.

“I disagree.” He frowned. “I think you are slacking and not paying attention to your work.”

“I know the system well,” she protested, “I promise I’m not—”

“No,” he said sharply. She swallowed hard, already fighting not to break down crying. She’d never been very good at conflict.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“No. You’re only sorry you got caught.” He sounded _smug_. Like he had been waiting to use that _line_ forever, and now he had the stupid chance to use it on Tammy, who for the record, _was_ actually sorry.

“Sir,” she began, this time with more conviction, “That’s not true. I—”

“Let me guess,” he cut her off _again_. Her anger grew to full hatred. “You are a college student who likes to put thing on her résumé that look _good_.”

“Well yes, I—”

“And you don’t care about these books, or the history, or doing _good work_ , you only care about music and TV shows, and all those frivolous things that your generation does—”

“Sir, that’s not—”

“— _Let me finish_! You don’t care about proper literature. You only care about your _diary_.” He plucked the journal from Tammy’s hands, a startled half-protest bubbled from her lips as he flipped it open. She was going to _report_ this guy to… to _someone_. She tried to speak, tried to say something, in her mind she was screaming at this bag-of-plagues who didn’t know anything _about_ her, but damn herself too—she was too shy, and she stayed silent. She missed her old management.

“I have managed too many young students who think the world is theirs,” continued her manager, “well guess what? This place has a certain _prestige_ , and I will not allow young fools like you to ruin it just for a paycheck and a line on a résumé! You’re just like every other thoughtless teenager I’ve ever met!” He threw her notebook across the floor, the spine bent and she heard some of the pages rip as it tumbled.

She drew in a sharp breath, anger and shame coursing through her. “Okay, let me get one thing straight,” Tammy snapped, surprising herself, “Or more like a million. You’ve been a terrible boss, always assuming the worst in people. I _love_ literature, I love books, I write my own novels sometimes. I have friends who study new and old art. We aren’t _all the same_! Listen, you incompetent, narrow-minded old guy, I actually _was_ sorry, but now I’m not. I hate you as a boss! I have written stories about a million ways you could get arrested and locked away for the rest of your life, and failing that, ways that you manage to accidentally fall of a cliff, okay!? I hope you _do_ fall off a cliff so they can find a competent manager who doesn’t delight in bullying employees like a pathetic sadist with no life!”

She swallowed, a cold dread creeping into her stomach. It had felt good to yell at him, but now…

“That is quite enough,” he said coldly. “There are some field trip students’ possessions in the storage room. Sort them, then go home. We will have a talk about your employment tomorrow.” She couldn’t believe this cruel bastard was making her _sort_ before going home.

“I—”

“I do not tolerate outbursts from _children_ in my library.”

_His library!? Oh holy hell._

“Yes sir.” Tammy scowled, still very much angry. She was going to lose her job over this, the job she loved. What Tammy needed was just to be alone. She scooped up her journal and pushed past the grey suited brick wall and into the main lobby of the hall, where real teenagers were messing up the library but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She just needed—

“Excuse me, could you tell me where my things are being kept?” A girl with her dark hair in pigtails, practically tripped Tammy.

“I’m _really_ not in the mood right now,” she snapped, “It wouldn’t do much good anyway. You’re not allowed back where they are.” She took a step forward.

“Oh but if I could just—” said the girl, blocking her path.

“Get _out of my way!_ ” Tammy said, shoving past her. The girl looked sorry, and startled. “Sorry,” Tammy muttered, before angrily walking off into the storage room.

* * *

The sinister mechanized windows of Hawkmoth’s sinister blimp opened, letting sinister light into his large, empty room with no furniture that he apparently used for nothing except to house his millions of sinister butterflies. It was a valuable room with many decorating possibilities and a magnificent view of the Paris skyline, despite this, it was kept empty. The glowing butterflies fluttered awake.

“Ah… resentment towards the corruption of power,” said Hawkmoth sinisterly. A glowing white butterfly landed in his sinister palm and was soon turned into a dark carrier of his dark powers.

“Go, little akuma, evillize her!” he said evilly.

The akuma fluttered out the middle of the window and over the rooftops of Paris as ominous French accordion music played in the background.

* * *

Tammy forcefully shoved a tray of metal objects in front of her to sort. She gripped the edges of the counter in the storage room, trying to get control of her emotions so she wouldn’t start crying on the bus home. She wiggled her notebook out of her bag and pushed the tray backwards, placing her notebook in front of her. She wanted to open it, to write maybe, but she had a feeling everything she wrote would come out angry and illegible. Out of nowhere, a black butterfly landed in her notebook.

A black shade soaked into her notebook like a spilled inkwell and her anger began to bubble inside, rage kindling as a flame. A voice filled her head, echoing, consuming, and saturating her brain.

 _Scriptor,_ said the voice, _I am Hawkmoth… I know how much you despise those who disrespect you. I will give you the chance to prove them wrong… all I want is for you to retrieve for me two objects: Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculouses._

There was a pause, and she felt a strong pulse of frustration that was not her own leech through the mental bond she had with Hawkmoth.

 _It’s really not that hard!_ An image appeared behind her eyelids, showing her the miraculouses, _just_ don’t _let your emotions get in the way of_ my _objective._

She felt the strong pull of her vengeful desires, but first, “Why don’t you get them yourself?” she asked Hawkmoth, “You’re clearly very powerful.”

There was silence in her head for a long time, and an ache of indecision and confusion broadcasting constantly, like a mental ‘ _um…_ ’

Through clouded vision, Tammy reached for the tray of confiscated items, moving almost as if in a trance. She pulled out two cases, containing earrings and a ring. They were the wrong colours—the earrings were black and the ring was silver, but Tammy _knew_. Half of her thoughts were already the Scriptor’s, and that part of her was _sure_ these things, taken hesitantly from their owners, were the miraculouses.

 _Don’t question me!_ Hawkmoth practically shouted in her mind, and in a flood of anger her mind was overwhelmed with the Scriptor’s thoughts. In the back of her mind, she registered a little red bug tug at her closed palm.


	2. Just the Beginning

Marinette looked through the square glass box that displayed an ancient scroll. According to the plaque, the partially un-translated document was assumed to be about good and bad luck balancing each other out. It reminded her of Chat Noir.

As it had been a week since the last akuma attack, it had _also_ been a week since she had seen Chat. She missed him, but it wasn’t romantic. Sure, Chat was charming, but Marinette was pretty sure he flirted with everyone. She wasn’t really special to him at all, and besides, her heart had been given to Adrien a long time ago…

A scream interrupted her thoughts. Marinette flinched and immediately she was running towards the sound. The telltale signs of destruction heard as she approached.

The front room of the library was chaos. Students from her school ran amuck, shelves were knocked over. In the middle of the chaos was an akuma victim. She was tall, with an overbearing presence; her wild hair was much longer than any sane person would keep their hair. A long cape made of a scroll hung from her shoulders and sash draped with books crossed her chest.

“I am the Scriptor!” announced the akuma victim from a top a large stack of books, “You will soon all know the power of my words! _Character Analysis_!” She threw a pen-dart at a student who was running away. The pen flew with a yellow glowing streak and hit the boy. He froze and suddenly fell flat, turning into a piece of paper that said the words:

_Terrified of being killed, music lover, extrovert, values friendship._

The page fluttered to the ground and then swirled back to the Scriptor, attaching to her notebook.

“An akuma!” Marinette said out loud. She reached for her earrings on instinct, then realized that they weren’t there. _Damn it_. She should have just refused to enter the library if she couldn’t wear her miraculous.

“ _Deus ex Machina_!” exclaimed the Scriptor, “ _Random heavy weight_!”

“Look out!” Suddenly, Adrien had tackled her out of the way of a… _random heavy weight_. He was on top of her, shielding her from some wooden debris. For a frozen, perfect second, Marinette was enraptured by his eyes. So green.

“Um…” she said, “thank you.” She scrambled up, she couldn’t think about Adrien now, not when she needed to be Ladybug as soon as possible. She had to get to her miraculous. She never should have taken them off. Earlier, she had seen a library worker go to put her things away. She ran like hell.

“Marinette! Wait!” Adrien said, dodging another _random heavy weight_.

Marinette tugged at the handle of the storage room, and ran inside, searching frantically for her earrings. Where were they!? She threw the tray off the table, hearing screams, and turned around to see Adrien enter the small room.

“A-Adrien!?” she stuttered, “You… why… what are you doing here!?”

“I’m… well, you know, big, scary, book based, bad-tempered librarian. I’m… hiding?” he said. He looked at the tray of objects on the floor.

“Yeah… me too,” Marinette lied. Adrien inched over to the tray, sorting like she had been. He glanced at her with a guilty look on his face, but Marinette wouldn’t begrudge him if he was prioritizing material possessions right now. Some things were special, after all.

“I just hope Chat Noir gets here soon,” she said. Where was that cat!? If Chat arrived, would she fight by his side, even without her miraculous? Would she have to tell him who she really was?

“I don’t think he’s going to show up anytime soon,” Adrien said, using his hand to scatter someone’s sewing scissors and pins.

“What, why not?” Marinette got down on her knees, searching again.

“I—”Adrien looked up suddenly, “I… just meant, Ladybug isn’t even here yet.”

 _Don’t count on that, either,_ Marinette thought.

With a crash, the room around them crumbled for _spontaneous architectural failure_ and they ducked under the table like they would in an earthquake.

Paris sunlight streamed in and Marinette separated herself from Adrien’s arms, not giving it a second thought (When had he grabbed her?). She peeked out to see the Scriptor standing _right there_ , but something else had her attention: clipped to the Scriptor’s sash were her earrings! _As if this day could get any worse!_

She was going to have to fight without her miraculous, without her yo-yo… she had to hope Chat Noir could handle this on his own.

She tucked back under the table. “The Scriptor has Ladybug’s miraculous,” she said to herself. Adrien, who had apparently been looking as well, tucked himself beside her,

“And Chat Noir’s ring.” _Really?_ She hadn’t seen a black ring with a green paw… but then again, she _had_ only been looking for her miraculous. She looked at Adrien, who looked concerned, maybe even scared. She wished she was Ladybug, to keep Adrien safe.

“Adrien—” she started, but the Scriptor cut her off,

“ _Character Analysis! Compare and Contrast!_ ” screamed the Scriptor. She whipped two yellow streaks of pen-darts towards them.

Marinette reacted on instinct, and grabbed the table leg as Adrien grabbed the other. The pair flipped the table over, using the table top as a shield against the Scriptor’s attack. Marinette looked at Adrien with wide eyes to find him looking back at her with the same expression as they heard the explosion of the pens hitting their shield. She wanted to say, _nice work_ , because the reaction they had together reminded her of something her and Chat would do, but instead she said,

“Adrien, you should run, it’s dangerous here!” Just her luck, one of the first coherent sentence she managed to say to the boy of her dreams was about their imminent death.

“No way!” Adrien said, “ _You_ need to get out of here!”

She opened her mouth to reply, but the Scriptor approached them, and they met eyes, thinking the same thing. Still holding the table legs, they shoved it forward, knocking over the Scriptor, who had no time to say anything defensive. She was trapped under the table for too short a time, but they managed to run past her into the streets.

Almost immediately, the Scriptor was back. “ _Simile! The manhole cover was as round as a circular sawblade!_ ”

Marinette looked down to see she was standing on a manhole cover. She threw herself sideways off of it just as it turned into a circular sawblade and flew out of control, spinning and smashing through a window. She landed on her feet, and watched the smashed glass scatter. She whipped around, trying to locate the Scriptor, who had apparently decided they were too much trouble and was escaping through a _plot hole_.


	3. A Bit of Pun

Adrien knew that he shouldn’t have taken off his ring… he should have just refused to enter the library if he couldn’t wear his miraculous. He watched the Scriptor escape with his ring tied to one of the laces on her boots, and he furrowed his eyebrows. He looked at Marinette, whose back was turned to him.

Adrien quickly scanned the area and jumped on top of a table, plucking a white extendable pole from the center. The couple eating there made sounds of protest (they had already been interrupted by the Scriptor earlier, and were bothered by the continued distractions), but Adrien pulled the blue and white striped umbrella off the pole and tossed it aside.

“I just need to use this, don’t mind me!” he said, by way of explanation, which really wasn’t very good. He leaped off the table with the pole held behind him. He noticed Marinette had knelt by a young boy in a creamsicle coloured shirt holding a yo-yo.

“I’m sorry,” said Marinette, “Can I borrow this? Thanks.”

She ran back to him, the yo-yo looking comfortable in her hands. It had a picture of Tintin on it.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m getting Ladybug’s miraculous back,” she said without missing a beat, “Someone has to. I’m sure she’s probably locked up somewhere.”

He supposed there was probably no way to convince her to go home; she looked almost as determined as he was, and he couldn’t figure out why. He couldn’t figure out Marinette in general; one day she was shy and awkward and beautiful (and liked ‘designs that go upwards’) and the next she was strong, fierce, and clever, rejecting his Chat Noir flirtations as confidently as Ladybug would.

Adrien picked up on this easy excuse quickly, “I’m coming with you,” he said, “It… always takes two, right? To beat an akuma?”

“Right…” She looked him up and down, blush colouring her cheeks.

“What?” he asked. Subconsciously, he had taken on his alert position, standing strongly with his legs shoulder width apart and the pole just slightly raised, ready for anything, like his staff would have been.

“Nothing,” she said, “You just… you remind me of Chat Noir.”

“O-oh!” he said, “Well I guess that makes you Ladybug.”

“Yup,” she said, quickly like there was more to say that she didn’t want to. Her mouth flattened into a line and she looked away. “So, let’s go track down the Scriptor.”

Marinette seemed cute, and smart… it would’ve been nice if Adrien could have at least had a conversation with her, which only seemed to happen when he was Chat Noir, which was hardly the proper way to get to know someone. Going into something with a mask on seemed cheap to him, although it didn’t stop him from loving Ladybug.

Speaking of that red and black miracle, where was she? He was worried, Marinette had said that the Scriptor had her miraculous, but he hadn’t seen it. Either way, Marinette was a smart girl, and friends with one of Ladybug’s biggest fans, she should know what she was talking about.

He was just going to have to fight this super villain like it was any other day, only this time he had to get his ring and Ladybug’s earrings as well as the akuma’s power source. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

* * *

Adrien ran into the courtyard in front of the Louvre and Marinette promptly swung down from a lamppost on her borrowed Tintin yo-yo. Adrien was surprised not only by the fact that Marinette picked up the art of yo-yo grappling so quickly, but also that the yo-yo had held up so well.

“That was amazing,” he said as she landed beside him. Marinette looked down modestly, blushing.

“Thanks… I just, I guess I pick things up quickly.” She smiled, but didn’t meet his eyes.

The courtyard was empty, with an unnerving stillness. The ground was littered with thick books.

“The Scriptor’s been through here,” said Marinette, walking into the middle of the all the quiet evidence of destruction. She picked up a book, encyclopedia sized, and opened it. The pages clicked, stiff and new.

“What does it say?” Adrien asked. She looked at him once, with a concentrated look in her eyes, and then turned back to the book,

Adrien could tell she was reading. She turned a chunk of pages, and then began to flip faster. The book was closed with a resounding thud.

“We’re not moving fast enough,” said Marinette, “Paris will be one big library by the time we find the Scriptor.”

“Talk about late-fee punishments,” he said, Chat-Noir-ishly, “Makes you think twice about crossing the _feline_.” He looked at Marinette, who was staring at him questioningly, the way you look at someone you recognize but can’t quite place.

“…that didn’t even make sense, coming from you,” she said slowly, continuing to scrutinize him.

“Yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. The feeling of tracking down an akuma was getting to him, he was beginning to act like the pun-making, energetic Chat Noir, and he needed to stop. This wasn’t like any other day, it could be the day he lost his miraculous forever and Hawkmoth won. He needed to focus.

She pulled her hand back and swung her yo-yo, catching the lip of a gutter and pulling herself up onto the roof. “Need a hand?” she shouted down to him.

“I can handle it!” he replied, and vaulted himself up onto a balcony with his pole, then climbed the side of the building and joined Marinette on the roof. She watched him with a look he felt he had seen before, but he had never spent much time with her. How could fighting an akuma with this girl he hardly knew feel so familiar? How did being with her make him want to make cheesy cat-puns?

She nodded at him and then turned away, swinging across rooftops. His heart lurched, in a way it only did with another person he knew. He frowned and shook his head. Marinette was not Ladybug, he knew ­­the difference. He couldn’t just go falling in love with anyone who could use a yo-yo for parkour. What was wrong with him? With that thought, he took a running leap and followed her.

* * *

Marinette leapt over the rooftops, surprising even herself with how well she was doing without being Ladybug. The end of the roof was coming up fast and she leapt, flipping in midair. She landed on the next roof and turned around to make sure Adrien was following. The boy was nearly right beside her. For someone who didn’t regularly roof-jump to save Paris, he was doing surprisingly well. She watched his clearly athletic, really hot body—ahem, she watched his impressive form pole vault across the distance and land beside her. She hadn’t known he was this acrobatic. God, he was dreamy.

“Why’d you stop?” asked Adrien.

“I was making sure I didn’t lose you. Um, I mean, not that you’re _mine_ to lose, or that you would _get_ lost, but just that—”

Adrien chuckled, his laugh endearing, “I get it, Marinette.”

“Oh, good.” Why was she such a dork!?

“Look, over there!” Adrien exclaimed, pointing. She looked in the direction saw a portal plot hole open in front of the Eiffel Tower.

“I see it,” she said, “Let’s go!”

She hooked her yo-yo around something, honestly she couldn’t keep track of what she was swinging from anymore, and swung away.

The pair arrived, at the same time, on the steps that Marinette liked to sit and draw at, behind the Scriptor who was laughing manically (as akuma victims tended to).

“You won’t think books are so stupid after you’ve become one!” she said, threatening a bunch of terrified Parisians who were scattering like discovered pill bugs.

“Marinette,” Adrien whispered. She looked at him questioningly. “ _Distract her_ ,” he mouthed, while motioning with his hands, in case she didn’t understand. She narrowed her eyes and nodded once, shortly.

Marinette flipped up onto the nearest wall and then down, to land herself right in front of the Scriptor, who looked surprised.

“Hey!” Marinette shouted unnecessarily, beginning to twirl her yo-yo, “I’ve always wanted to star in a famous biography! Come and get me!”

“ _Character Analysis!”_

Three yellow darts in quick succession were shot at Marinette. Her yo-yo deflected the first one, but she heard a worrisome snap as one side of the yo-yo cracked. She dived out of the way of the second one, and jump-dodged the other. Marinette didn’t think putting a regular yo-yo through this much stress was advisable, but it was all she had.

“Is that your best, Scriptor?” Marinette taunted, casting her yo-yo at the Scriptor’s arm. The string didn’t reach far enough and ended up hitting the Scriptor’s wrist, forming a mild bruise if nothing else.

“ _Character Analysis!”_

Marinette ran in an arc as yellow darts chased after her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Adrien sneaking up on the Scriptor, diving for the akuma victim’s legs. The Scriptor realized what was happening and looked down, angry. Adrien’s eyes widened in surprise before the Scriptor kicked him out of the way and sent him flying a good few meters to sprawl against the pavement.

“Adrien!” Marinette exclaimed. She gathered her yo-yo quickly, a hassle that she’d never had to worry about before, and ran at the Scriptor, clocking the crazy librarian in the head. A yellow dart was thrown off course and shot harmlessly over Marinette’s head. She flew onto the Scriptor’s shoulders in a feat of acrobatics, reaching for her miraculous. The Scriptor threw her off, but not before she threw her yo-yo again, binding the Scriptor’s legs together.

They both went down, and the Scriptor growled, rolling to make sure Marinette’s miraculous was out of reach again.

“ _Deus Ex Machina! Arbitrary Endless Pit!_ ”

Marinette flipped out of the way of a black cavity opening below her and grabbed Adrien’s hand, pulling him up. With a tug, her yo-yo came loose of the Scriptor’s legs before she could break the fragile string and render Marinette’s impromptu weapon completely useless.

“ _Out of Character!”_ the Scriptor said, opening her notebook. Black ink spurted from the pages. The ink pooled on the ground and soon formed into black snakes that chased the frightened pedestrians. The moment the ink-snakes hit the people, they stopped mid-stride and tattoo patterns appeared on their skin.

“Attack these two teenagers who are proving more meddlesome than I thought!” the Scriptor commanded. Immediately, the small army of maybe, twenty, unlucky people began moving towards Marinette and Adrien.

 _I hate it when they can make armies_ , Marinette thought, _even though it does give me an excuse for where I’ve been. Unfortunately, I don’t need one this time around._

“Wait!” she shouted to the mind controlled people, “You don’t need to do this! She’s controlling your minds! Fight it!”

The Scriptor’s army continued to advance, their shuffling zombie-steps turning into a threatening run. Oh well, it was worth a try.

“Looks like we’re going to have to be _Agreste-_ ive,” Adrien joked, in a completely serious tone, holding up his pole.

Marinette spared a moment to look shocked at Adrien’s nerve. This was a side she’d never seen from him before; did he seriously just make a pun about his own last name!? The only other guy she knew who was daring enough to make puns in dangerous situations was Chat Noir. He shrugged in response.

That was all the time they had, then the first character from the Scriptor’s army attacked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are both so clueless... ;) 
> 
> Anyway, thank you all so much for the comments and kudos! I wasn't expecting it; honestly, I thought only my friends were going to read this— so thank you all so much... I hurried through editing this chapter just so I could have a place to thank you all en masse. I'm so glad people are enjoying it!


	4. The Eiffel Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter alert! This is probably going to be the longest chapter I'll post— a little over 3000 words.

“Looks like we’re going to have to be _Agreste-_ ive,” Adrien joked. He eyed the approaching characters, and then Marinette, who was looking at him incredulously. He supposed she couldn’t believe his puns, but it was a part of the akuma-battling process for him.

It helped to make puns, it made the situation lighter, and then it was easier to be brave. Given, he had to modify his puns now that cat-based ones made no sense, but he thought he was doing pretty well considering he’d never had to think about words that sounded like his own name.

The first character rushed at him, wielding a parasol as if it were a sword. He raised his umbrella pole and traded blows with her and then flipped backwards, swinging his pole to knock down another two characters. _Adrien? Adri-end? A-dry-end?_

“You’re pretty good,” Marinette said, knocking one of the characters down with her yo-yo. They were back to back. _Agreste? A-vest? Yeah, no, definitely not A-vest._

”Yeah,” Adrien said, twirling his pole around to defend against a book (that he was pretty sure used to be a person) being thrown at his head. “I take fencing lessons.”

Marinette cartwheeled out of the way, kicking down a character in the process. “I know!”

“Huh?” he turned to look at her, confused but with no time to contemplate as three characters dived for him at once. He rolled out of the way, and came up to kick them over. “What did you say—?”

He looked off to the side, flipping a character over his pole.

“I uh, I kind of have a—” Marinette caught a character in her yo-yo string and then twirled over her, pushing her towards the comically growing pile of dazed characters whom the two were slowly beating up.

“A what?” he jumped up onto a stone step, backing away from a character who was brandishing a cane as a sword.

“Watch out!” she slid under a character who had dived to tackle her, and Adrien ducked as the one from behind him attempted to do the same. The two characters crashed into each other and landed on the pile of the dazed.

“You were saying, princess? Uh—” He stopped and tensed, wanting to take back that title. That was _way too_ Chat-Noir-ish.

She looked just as surprised as he was, but also equally flattered as she was surprised. “It’s not important,” Marinette said, pulling nervously at one of her pigtails.

Adrien looked at her skeptically, but with an easygoing smile on his face. What was the worst she was going to say she had? An over-researched schedule of what he did every week? He was a popular model, his fencing lessons were probably common knowledge, even though he didn’t want them to be.

He looked away from the girl whom he was starting to be more appreciative of, in awe for a moment. Abruptly, he looked to the side and saw the Scriptor, who was climbing the Eiffel Tower

“There!” they both said at once. He glanced sidelong at Marinette and they both rushed after the Scriptor.

The Scriptor got to the bottom of the stairs, ripping open the flimsy gate that read, NO PUBLIC ACCESS. Adrien wasn’t far behind, hopping over the gate that was already swinging closed. The Scriptor didn’t have his agility, but her akuma-enhanced speed made up for it. He chased her up several flight of stairs. She kept running.

“Where is she going?” Adrien wondered aloud. Marinette swung down beside him, apparently having abandoned the stairs in favour of a more swing-y option a few flights ago.

“I don’t know, but she seems intent on reaching the top,” Marinette said. Adrien narrowed his eyes, then saw an opportunity.

“We have to _book_ it.”

He looked sideways to gauge Marinette’s reaction, but she unfortunately was busy listening to the Scriptor. Damn it, that was a pretty good pun!

“Did you know this was originally a radio tower?” the Scriptor’s voice rang down from multiple flights above them. They both looked up in alarm.

“The stairs are too slow!” Marinette exclaimed, “How did she get up there so fast!?”

Craning their necks, they could see the Scriptor’s tan boots through the iron planks.

“This tower is positioned at the perfect spot,” the Scriptor continued, her voice getting farther away, “Just perfect to broadcast a message to all of Paris!”

Adrien frowned, and had one hand on a cross-section of the Paris landmark, ready to climb, when an arm wrapped around his waist. He flinched, and then relaxed when he realized it was Marinette. She was already a foot off the ground. Apparently, they had had the same idea. He met her eyes, they were so blue. He smiled.

“You don’t mind do you?” asked Marinette quickly. Adrien shook his head, and she hoisted him beside her, giving him a foothold. He didn’t bother telling her that he could have climbed up himself, he was too distracted by how strong she was. He hadn’t expected it of her. Like another girl he knew, Marinette had lifted him almost effortlessly. Hey, wasn’t _he_ supposed to be the one gratuitously putting an arm around pretty friends on the pretense of strategic advantage over an akuma?

“We’re climbing,” Marinette said, looking up and away from him.

“How fast can you climb?” he asked, tucking his pole awkwardly into his belt, readying himself to climb.

“Faster than you think,” Marinette said. She sounded quite teasing. Prominently, they could hear the Scriptor’s footsteps clanging up the stairs.

“Is that right, princess?” he challenged. He was glad, regardless of circumstance, that Marinette finally seemed to be talking to him without that stuttered shyness. He had seen her be bold and clever, especially so in the past hour alone, it was enrapturing.

“Stop teasing,” she said, “we need to catch the Scriptor before she uses this broadcasting Tower to turn Paris into a bookstore.”

“Stay close behind, then.” Adrien was aware that with the mood between them, he could have said any flirtatious line he could think of ( _stay on my rear)_. But who did that make him, if he flirted with every girl he fought evil with? It wasn’t like Ladybug would be offended, they weren’t (unfortunately) in _that_ kind of relationship. Still, now was not the time to be flirting with Marinette.

The two picked up their pace, Adrien pulling out all the Chat-Noir-stops. He climbed higher and faster like a cat in a metal, Eiffel-Tower-shaped tree. He considered making a joke about getting stuck high up and being rescued by firemen, but then remembered that would only make sense if he was wearing black and two ears in his hair.

“Why are you so _keen_ on stopping me!?” the Scriptor demanded as they emerged onto a platform. The Scriptor was staring at a narrow ladder that lead higher up, to the parts of the Tower that reached dangerous heights. Her back was to them.

“Someone has to,” Adrien said, “with Ladybug and Chat Noir missing.” Marinette nodded to him, approving of his answer. He was worried that he was being too obvious about who he was, after all wouldn’t a regular high school student simply run away from a super-villain? He was glad for Marinette, just a normal girl who showed the same bravery as any hero. He didn’t think he could do this without a Ladybug, and he supposed with his Lady missing, Marinette filled the role exceedingly well.

The Scriptor laughed, “That’s right, isn’t it? It’s almost too easy.” She turned around and glared at them. A pink butterfly shape appeared around her eyes, which became unfocused, like she was listening to someone. “No way, butterfly,” she sneered, “If you take away these abilities before I’m done with them, I’ll give your precious jewelry back to a certain red-and-black pair. I’ll pay you, don’t fret, I already have the miraculouses.”

The reminder of why he was unable to make cat-puns snapped Adrien into action. He met eyes with Marinette, no question in his mind of whether or not she would understand his intent, and then he equipped his pole. Marinette was already twirling her yo-yo.

Adrien twirled his pole, running towards the Scriptor and blocking her yellow pens. Marinette had taken the other side, and threw her yo-yo. It caught on the Scriptor’s sash, loosening the complicated knot at her hip. The sharp edge of the cracked plastic yo-yo sliced into the fabric, dropping the sash more.

The Scriptor whipped her head around, no doubt glaring at Marinette. Adrien took his chance, and swiped at her feet. She seized Marinette’s yo-yo string and pulled hard as she tripped over his pole, toppling Marinette as well. Marinette fell forward with a small yelp.

“Marinette!” Adrien exclaimed.

Adrien un-extended his pole, then extended it to catch his ring on the end of it. His miraculous was so close, just calling to him from her loose bootlace. She kicked her leg, and although Adrien managed to keep hold on the pole, he heard a disheartening crunch as the pole dented into a warped shape. He tried to de-extend it again, but its response was slow because of the damage.

“Don’t doubt the Scriptor!” the akuma victim said, but it appeared she wasn’t talking to them. “I can handle two kids playing vigilante, butterfly.”

She scrambled up, Marinette tugging on her yo-yo which refused to cooperate and untangle itself from the Scriptor’s sash. The problem with using borrowed mock-ups of Chat Noir and Ladybug’s weapons was that they _weren’t_ , and they broke easily.

“ _C-c-c-c-character Analysis!_ ” the Scriptor’s voice stuttered, sounding like a glitching computer. What was—!? A barrage darts shot out towards Adrien. Time seemed to stop for a split second, and all he could see was a wave of yellow. _Let’s see just how good I can be_ , he thought.

Time sped up, and he flipped out of the way, seeing only the yellow darts, and out of the corner of his eye, the Scriptor. His senses fine-tuned, like a cat, he could see the projectiles he needed to dodge, could place his enemy (the Scriptor) and his ally (Marinette). He heard plastic hit metal, Marinette had finally freed her yo-yo from the Scriptor’s sash. He leaped out of the way of the darts, left and right, ducking and throwing himself sideways.

Adrien dodged a dart only to be pressed up against the railing. He leapt the railing, only catching himself on the other side before he fell. His button-down shirt caught on a piece of rough metal and with one arm loose, he shook the shirt off, watching the white material fluttered down, hitting a beam on the way down.

There was an iron beam that was just overhead of Adrien, parallel to the one he had his eyes on. He could not see it, but the Scriptor could. She was planning to use it against him.

“ _Deus Ex Machina! Ironic Iron Beam!”_ the Scriptor said. Suddenly, the beam’s supports rusted away.

“Adrien!” Adrien heard Marinette scream.

He dived out of the way.

He could hear groaning metal bending the Tower at awkward angles. Again, his senses fine-tuned, he could see the Scriptor diving out of the way of something, too. Marinette had cast her yo-yo, forcing the Scriptor to dive in the same direction as Adrien— closer to the falling beam.

 _This was a bad idea,_ Adrien thought as he realized he had avoided the beam but jumped into empty air.

 _I’m going to die today_ , Adrien thought, seeing the ground so far away and nothing beneath him. He hoped that cats had nine lives. He hoped that Chat Noir did too, even when he wasn’t Chat Noir. Plagg would have been able to tell him, but even with his miraculous within reach, Plagg hadn’t showed up yet. He was worried— worried for Paris, worried for Plagg, and for Ladybug. Ladybug: his friend, his crush. Most of all, though, he was worried about himself. Because, reality rushing back in, he was about to fall to his death.

Distantly, he could hear Marinette calling his name.

Something was unstable in front of him, something that been dislodged by the falling metal beam? A bent piece of metal? The metal beam itself? Adrien didn’t care, it had fallen in front of him. He reached his hands out and miraculously managed to catch it.

He didn’t want to die today, he didn’t want to die in general, but specifically not today. His hands grappled for purchase on the heaven-sent whatever it was.

He supposed it would be better to die now, though, because at least people would know how he died—a hero. If he had died as Chat Noir, Adrien Agreste would be forever missing: a pitiful neglected rich boy who would be assumed to have run away.

His right hand clutched at a ridge in the metal. His muscles pulled tight, flexing as he caught his own body weight. The sudden shock of deceleration flared in his shoulder, sending a jolt through his arm. He grimaced in pain, but tightened his fist. He was not going to die today.

“—rien!” Marinette was still shouting. How many times had she called for him? Or had she only ever called once? He gritted his teeth and frowned, concentrating. He was Chat Noir, he could do this. Adrien swung himself up, climbing on top of the thing that had saved his life.

And that’s when he realized he wasn’t saved yet.

Pulling himself to his feet upon a metal beam no wider than a foot and a half, he realized what happened. The beam was balanced precariously, teetering on the corner of a bent support section of the Eiffel Tower.

Marinette watched from the safety of the platform. That was one thing he realized comforted him, at least. She was very still.

The thing keeping the beam balanced wasn’t a _thing_ , but a _person_. The Scriptor had dived towards the falling beam, and was hanging precariously from the other end, balancing the long metal _just so_. If either of them made a move, both would fall. Adrien wasn’t sure if the Scriptor could fly, but he was betting not.

Everyone was still for a moment, nobody moved. It would be easy for Marinette to grab the miraculouses back from the Scriptor, but it would require the Scriptor moving, therefore dropping Adrien several dangerous storeys.

He could move, but then the Scriptor would fall, probably to her death, and he didn’t want to kill her. He would never kill anyone unless he had to. When he and Ladybug were first learning about their miraculouses and about each other, they had made a pact—no killing unless absolutely necessary.

He looked up. “Marinette…” he said, meeting her concerned eyes. He saluted jokingly, not succeeding at all in appearing calm. He couldn’t even come up with a single pun. The Scriptor struggled to climb up to her feet. The iron under Adrien creaked and rocked back and forth. He kept his balance, but a chill ran through his body. He wasn’t safe yet.

He kept Marinette in his periphery; she weighed the yo-yo in her hands, and then she scrunched up her eyes. Adrien couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Wishing for a longer yo-yo, maybe? He had never missed Ladybug so much in his life.

The Scriptor made another brash move with her arm, and managed to get her chest onto the beam. He tore his eyes away from Marinette, the girl safe on the platform, and watched the Scriptor. They met green to black eyes. The Scriptor opened her mouth, took a quick breath.

In an instant, all Adrien could think was that Ladybug’s Lucky Charm would have been _very_ welcome right about then.

The Scriptor screamed a spell/curse, and a black dart shot towards him, but Adrien didn’t even have to dodge it. The Scriptor had un-balanced their only security, everything teetered and he lost his balance in a rush of chaos, screaming, and iron.

He was falling, fast and in disorientation. His stomach dropped. He was most certainly going to die. Where was Marinette? Was she safe? Could she handle the Scriptor alone? Would she save Paris? Would she save Ladybug? He closed his eyes, the blur of falling things wasn’t helpful anyhow, and he didn’t want his last visual memory to be indistinguishable Parisian colours. He thought of Ladybug.

He heard Marinette shout. Suddenly, a hand was around his middle. Marinette. Had she jumped off the platform—!? She gripped him tightly, his eyes shot open.

Her other hand was on her yo-yo string. They were still falling, then they got to the end of the string and it pulled taut. They came to an abrupt halt. Their momentum changed from downwards to a sideways swing. It lasted for half a second before Marinette yelped. Adrien instinctively embraced her before the string on the exceptionally resilient yo-yo finally snapped.

They weren’t close enough to the ground to have a graceful landing and were thrown uncontrollably to the pavement. He tried to roll and break his fall, tried to shield Marinette, but both efforts were useless. They tumbled onto the ground roughly. Black pain flashed behind Adrien’s eyelids. When he opened them, he saw Marinette lying beside him and the Scriptor far away, still on the Eiffel Tower.

“No…” he said.

“This can’t happen…!” Marinette whispered.

The Scriptor screamed something, and a shower of yellow pen darts and black ink rained from the Tower like a fountain. He crawled to his knees stiffly and grabbed Marinette’s hand, scratched and bleeding. She let him pull her up and drag her under an awning.

Heavy splatters of black ink hit the striped surface above them and then dribbled off, slithering away through drain pipes or cracks in the cobblestone. Pen darts punctured through their thin shelter, menacing tips threatening them from above.

“Come on!” he said, leaving the awning. He ignored the instinct to run towards the danger, and instead finally did what a sane teenager would do. They ran from the attacks that targeted all of Paris. He had never been further away from accomplishing the plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get to gushing: Adrien calls Marinette "princess" in this chapter, and I'm just noting this because in some fics I've seen that used as Chat Noir's nickname for her and in other's it's Adrien's, even pre-reveal. Maybe it's just the translation I'm watching, but I've never seen Chat Noir canonically call Marinette "princess" hence why I didn't think it would be too obvious to have Adrien call her that here. 
> 
> Okay, now for the gushing: I fear I'm going to get repetitive, but THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!  
> I've read every one of your comments and I want to respond to all of them individually, but I don't know what else to say other than thank you, and if that's all I have to say I feel like it's not worth your time just to read two of my words that sound like an automatic response... but in all seriousness, I'm so grateful for all of you, and all your comments and kudos, everything... so, thank you all so much!


	5. Agreste Mansion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Change of pace for one chapter... must give our children some downtime ;)

Marinette was only aware of a few things: The ringing in her ears, and Adrien’s hand gripping hers as if he was afraid she would disappear simply by letting go.

She trusted the boy holding her hand, let him drag her along. She was reminded of a time as Ladybug when Stormy Weather had killed the power in a windowless building. Chat Noir, the lucky kitty, had night-vision. She remembered blindly letting him lead her, she trusted Chat Noir with her life. The only hesitance she had was that she knew that even the simplest of touches, fingers intertwining, was him flirting.

Adrien was different, she knew he was leading her only to save their lives, and… it made her sad. Adrien would never see her as anything more than a friend, if that even. She would be lucky for just that. And wasn’t she supposed to be lucky?

“Watch out!” he exclaimed, breaking her thoughts. He jerked her to the side and pain shot up her arm as she was thrown to the street. A yellow explosion filled her vision.

“Are you okay?” Adrien asked.

“I’m— I’m fine, I’m okay…” she said. She blinked her eyes, a ringing grew in her ears. She would be fine, but she had hit the ground harder than she meant to. She realized she was still clutching the broken yo-yo in her free hand.

“We’re almost there,” Adrien said. Almost where?

He pulled her up some stairs, she didn’t even know her legs were cooperating. She could barely feel them. For all she knew, they could have fallen off… she was so tired.

Her vision slammed back into focus as a large door opened in front of them and cool air rushed forwards. Adrien pulled her inside and she tripped over the threshold, falling to her knees on the floor. Where were they? Suddenly, her hand had been let go of and Adrien was slamming closed the door behind them.

She was sitting on a polished marble floor… she had been here before. Marinette looked around at their surroundings, taking in the details slowly. Tall stone pillars stretched before her, and long doors shut off private rooms. They were in Adrien’s house. Agreste Mansion. It was dark, all the curtains were drawn.

“Natalie!?” Adrien called, walking towards the stairs. He touched the banister, looking up to the second floor. “Dad!?”

Silence.

Not even a clock ticked.

He turned around. He looked different without his button down shirt… his bare arms were toned with muscle, like his athletic beauty had been hiding under white cotton. His hair was wild from falling off the Eiffel Tower and running through the Paris streets. There was something very Chat Noir about him. He looked _very_ good. _Well of course he looks good_ , Marinette chided herself, _He’s a model!_

“Are you hurt?” Adrien asked. Marinette pinched her eyes closed. Her headache was receding, giving way to a sinking sense of dread. The Scriptor still had the miraculouses and Chat Noir was probably dying somewhere, or mind controlled, or a book… “Marinette?”

“I’m fine,” Marinette said, gingerly getting to her feet. Her clothes were ripped, the fabric on her pink jeans had torn at the knees. Adrien’s jeans looked like they had been badly wrecked by some teenager who wanted to go with the cool ‘ripped-jeans’ fad.

“You’re bleeding,” Adrien pointed out. Her palms stung, she picked them up to her eyes to see they were scraped and bloody to hell.

“They’re just scratches,” she said. She had never been hurt before, as Ladybug. Her Ladybug costume was made of something super durable. Her shoulder ached, she had landed on it, probably bruised it. She sorely missed her Ladybug yo-yo. The broken Tintin yo-yo sat like some sort of abstract art, in pieces, on Adrien’s marble floor.

She looked up, Adrien had gotten close while she was distracted. He was standing right in front of her, his gaze was concerned.

“May I see?” he asked softly. She swallowed, subconsciously holding her breath. She offered her hand to his tender touch.

Marinette’s palms were red messes. Her crush’s gaze flickered from her hands to her eyes, which she kept downcast. He dropped her hands, leaving them to swing at her side.

“Come on, let’s go to my room.”

“What? Your room?”

Adrien was already walking up the stairs, and Marinette painfully rolled her right shoulder back… she had definitely bruised it.

Adrien’s room was huge, easily twice the size of her own room, he had a _library_ in his room, as well as a basketball court, and a rock climbing wall… as well as a huge computer. It shouldn’t have surprised her when Adrien pulled a first-aid kit out from a drawer. He had _everything_ in his room.

“You’re room is huge!” Marinette exclaimed. She journeyed over to the computer and accidentally jostled the mouse as she leaned over the desk. Immediately the huge screen displayed multiple pages of her red-masked self. There must have been at least five layered windows open of Ladybug in candid photos and also in posed ones on Alya’s Ladyblog. She gaped. Adrien had left for school that morning after looking at pictures of her!?

“Oh that!” Adrien said from behind her. She turned around, Adrien had dropped the first aid kit on his couch. He rushed over to the computer, quickly closing everything with a pattern of keystrokes. A blush crept into his cheeks. “I’m… I’m a bit of a fan, you know?”

He laughed nervously as Marinette went to sit on the couch, giddy inside.

“Yeah?” she said, latching open the white box with medical supplies in it. With her back turned, she momentarily forgot about her bleeding hand and her bruised shoulder. Adrien was a _Ladybug fan_. She pressed her lips together, unable to help herself from smiling.

“I just, uh, sometimes I…” Adrien shut off his computer and walked over to where Marinette was in the process of tearing open a package of antiseptic wipes.

“Don’t get the wrong idea…” Adrien continued, “I’m not just doing this… I mean, trying to fight the Scriptor, just for her. I mean, I care about her, so I am… but I’ve never even _met_ her! Right, _I’ve_ never met her. At all. But I still think she’s really— well, never mind. But it’s not just because I’m a fan.”

He cleared his throat nervously again and looked down, making Marinette wonder how he could sound so cute while awkwardly stuttering. Unlike herself, who just sounded like she had forgotten how to speak the French language like a complete idiot.

“I didn’t think that,” Marinette said, and didn’t add _I thought you were doing it because you’re an athletic, selfless, brave person who cares about the safety of Paris over your own well-being, a person with whom I could never in a million years deserve to even fight an akuma with._

“Oh. Good.” Adrien shuffled over to Marinette and looked down at her hands. “May I?” he asked, nodding to the seat next to hers.

“Oh, of course.”

He sat next to her, gently taking her hands to clean and bandage them.

So, Adrien was a Ladybug fan. Did he have a crush on Ladybug? The thought both thrilled her and tossed about envy. Of whom? Herself? It was ridiculous that she was envious of Ladybug for Adrien’s theoretical heart. She _was_ Ladybug! She was getting ahead of herself, anyway. Adrien probably thought Ladybug’s heroine stuff was cool, and didn’t even crush on her.

Suddenly, something else occurred to her; what if Adrien wished he was Chat Noir? Was that why he was so good at using poles and climbing buildings? She giggled, if Chat Noir was half as much of a rational, sincere boy as Adrien, then he might stand a _chance_ with her heart.

“What’s so funny?” Adrien asked, tying off a bandage so skillfully she basically lost none of her dexterity.

“Nothing,” she said, daring to meet his eyes. A fluttering feeling started her chest. “I was just thinking, you’re very good. Almost as good as the real Chat Noir.”

He smiled pridefully, a look that reminded her of said cat, but it was only for a second. “You find that funny?”

“No, no,” Marinette said, then realized she had exactly no idea where she was going with this. “You’re… you’re just so much more…” _Attractive? Yeah, no, don’t say that aloud._

“What?” He was smiling at her. Damn, this boy could kill her.

“You’re just so much more… um… good at being Adrien,” she finished lamely, then tried turning it into a joke, “No one can be you like you!”

She prepared herself for Adrien to look at her like the dork she was, but instead he was smiling, looking amused.

“What?” Marinette asked.

“You’re right,” Adrien said, “And no one can be Chat Noir like Chat Noir.” He was smiling like it was a pun, but she didn’t get it. “Especially not me,” he said, “I could never be Chat Noir.”

She studied him, for simply the reason that he was beautiful. He was more Chat-Noir-ish than he probably thought. She wondered what Chat would think if he knew her biggest and longest standing crush bore resemblance to him. She would never hear the end of it. _Ladybug, don’t you think I look as good as_ Adrien Agreste _? Look at my hair, just like his, no?_

Thinking about it now, the resemblance _was_ uncanny…

“You have a nice room,” she said aloud, trying to put an end to her current line of thoughts. It was unsettling. She got off his couch and started looking at his huge space. It was two storeys!

“Oh, thanks, I guess,” Adrien said, following her, “My dad got me all this stuff.”

She smiled and wandered back to the computer. “He probably cares about you a lot, huh?” Gabriel Agreste was her role model, the best fashion designer in the world. In fact, she became _obsessed_ with Adrien through looking at Gabriel’s designs. She would _love_ to live with the man, there would be so much he could teach her!

“Not really,” Adrien said bitterly. She turned around to find Adrien fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He rolled his eyes. _Oh._ “Mostly he just adds new things to my room when I start complaining that he never shows up for anything. Because money fixes _everything_.”

She swallowed, embarrassed. It had never occurred her that being a wonderful fashion designer was one thing, and being a good father was another. “I’m sorry, Adrien, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“That’s okay,” he said. He looked lonely, and crush aside, she just wanted to hug him. She searched for something to cheer him up. Parental overprotection had always been an annoyance for Marinette, but she supposed Adrian would probably love it. Of course, it was why he had been so happy about the scarf.

“The scarf,” she realized, “He got you a scarf this year, didn’t he?”

“What?”

“You said that your dad remembered your birthday and got you a scarf.” He had been really happy that day, and even though he would never know how many hours she spent on it, it had been enough to see him so happy.

“Oh, yeah,” Adrien smiled a little, “You have a good memory.” He walked over to her, looking at her fiddle with his desk. Standing over her, he was taller than she was.

“I just remembered because…” Marinette thought quickly, “I make scarves for friends sometimes.” Half-lies were easier to tell than full lies. “And I remember thinking _good thing I didn’t make one for Adrien, otherwise he’d have two_.” Wait, had she just assumed that they were friends?

“I wouldn’t have minded another scarf,” Adrien said, “if it was from a friend.”

She was blushing really hard, “Oh, I’ll make you one then.” He smiled at her.

Mentally she was celebrating; she had just told him she was going to make him a _scarf_ and he hadn’t objected and they were apparently _friends_ now, and she hadn’t stuttered. _Yes!_

“Well, at least thanks to my dad, I have everything I could ever want in my room.”

 _Except Ladybug_ , she thought about teasing, but didn’t. Instead she said, “Yeah, I like it here.”

Adrien paused, like he was debating with himself whether to say something or not. Finally, he spoke. “Enough to stay here for a few hours?”

“What?!” Marinette said.

“I’m going back,” explained Adrian, “The Scriptor has to be stopped.” He frowned, looking determined. He would make a very good Chat Noir, Marinette thought, if only he had a miraculous.

“So?” Marinette said, “What does this have to do with me liking your room?”

“I think you should stay here, Marinette.”

What, and hide? No way. She was Miraculous Ladybug, and she would never let Adrien do this alone.

“Adrien,” she said, “I like your room, I do, but not enough to let you do this alone.” She sounded so bold, hopefully Adrien noticed. Maybe when this was all over she’d have the confidence to finally ask him out. He took a breath, and looked right at her. All of a sudden her confidence scattered. She couldn’t think when he stared at her like that. Adrien was so—

“Are you sure?” Adrien asked. He didn’t sound arrogant, like he could easily have been. Instead, he sounded considerate. He didn’t know she was Ladybug, so of course he was worried, but it wasn’t her that he should have been worried about. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

 _Of course,_ thought Marinette of replying, _who else would save you from falling off the Eiffel Tower?_ Instead, she just nodded mutely.

Adrien smiled softly, “Good.” It was a weighted statement, like there was more to it. Alas, Marinette was not a mind reader, so she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Her heart fluttered, wondering after this was all over, what would they be?

“Marinette?”

“Mm-hm?”

“I’m glad you’re with me.”

His words were so sweet, so genuine. Marinette could feel her heart melt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I getting repetitive with the thanking? Anyhow, I'll try to keep it shorter since there's not too much more to say that hasn't been said, but I just want you all to know I'm still so grateful to all of you and glad I'm continuing to please. Thanks to everyone who explained the "princess" nickname to me.
> 
> Lastly, what do you think of the frequency of my updates? Too many too soon? Just enough? I already am complete the whole thing, but I'm editing as I post, which is the only reason the chapters haven't been posted all at once.


	6. Back to the Start

Tin-tin had been haphazardly fixed with duct tape, the string tied back together as firmly as possible. Adrien had managed to find another umbrella pole. They stood outside the library where the day had started. The yo-yo dangled an inch from Marinette’s fingers and the pole in Adrien’s strong fist.

The late afternoon sun cast their long shadows across the pavement of spilled yellow light.

“ _Read_ -y?” Adrien asked. Marinette giggled and resisted the urge to hit him on the shoulder. His puns were terrible. She thought Chat Noir would probably appreciate her crush’s jokes. Then she remembered the thing where she was never going to _tell_ Chat Noir about Adrien because the cat would never let her forget it.

“Yes,” Marinette replied. Chat Noir was somewhere. Just like her, he had no miraculous. Did that mean that when she finally found her best friend (well, second best to Alya) they would finally know each other’s secret identities?

She looked to her side, at Adrien. Lit by the low sun, he looked like a modeling photograph. Specifically, the one she had on her wall in reds and oranges, with his gaze low and intense. Her heart sped up, and not because of fear.

What if Adrien was her partner instead of Chat Noir? Definitely not a good idea. She couldn’t imagine having to focus when someone she loved so much was constantly beside her. Plus, she would miss Chat. She missed him now.

Adrien opened the tall doors to the library, and the two stepped into the dimly lit space.

Inside, it was a twisted labyrinth. The Scriptor had definitely done some work. The main room looked simultaneously larger and smaller. The bookshelves went up and up and up and then seemed to bend over and connect archways with other shelves, melted together like Salvador Dalí’s clocks. Some of the shelves were twisted around like trees growing up in a lightless forest, knotted and rigidly conforming to the shape of other bookshelves. Books and papers and files were crammed into every space, and Marinette didn’t have to read them to know that they were most likely surrounded by the population of Paris.

Marinette squinted, the bookshelves arching overhead filtered the light so very little came through. She heard Adrien mutter something about _being surprised he could see so well even without being—_

“What was that?” she said.

“O-oh nothing,” Adrien replied. She squinted at him through the darkness, a suspicion growing in her mind. 

Shuffling noises and steps drifted to them through the muffling of all the thick tomes. Mind controlled victims of the Scriptor’s _Out of Character_. She stepped closer to Adrien, more of a fighting stance habit that anything else, but he misinterpreted it and slipped his hand into hers. She blushed, and wasn’t complaining.

“What’s the plan?” he asked her.

“Find the Scriptor. Get the miraculouses. Escape.” _Hide, transform, make sure Adrien is safe, go back for the akuma._

“Good plan, princess.”

She scoffed quietly; this plan was no more specific or helpful than any of her plans as Ladybug. She could never quite communicate what she was trying to do to Chat Noir, but he understood her. It was one of the reasons they worked. Apparently, Adrien understood her too.

“There,” Adrien hissed, and pulled them both against a shelf. Desk lamp shadows glided over the walls. To their right, the dry swipe of pages being turned and cards being cataloged. A voice then that they recognized.

“You want a number, butterfly?” said the Scriptor, “Oh, _fine_ I’ll cease it. _Hawkmoth_ , I’ll be done by midnight. I’ll tell you, _Hawkmoth_ , this is the most satisfied I’ve ever been with myself. And I’m like you: I’m never satisfied.”

A book beside Marinette’s ear wiggled. Another book was being pushed in on the opposite side of the shelf. She slowed her breathing and kept listening.

“So where exactly are you, _Hawkmoth_? Where, when I’m done, _Hawkmoth_ , should I bring you your jewelry?”

The Scriptor laughed and the book beside Marinette moved another few inches. The Scriptor said nothing more. Marinette assumed Hawkmoth had ended communications. The book moved some more, and then with a hard shove, it topped to the ground. The pages folded under it at curved angles and it made a crunching-thudding sound.

“You’re useless, blonde-stereotype!” the Scriptor said, “I _heard_ that. If you could only shelve _properly_ …! Go around the shelf and pick it up!”

Adrien beside her tensed. Concerned, Marinette shot him glance. They were in such close proximity, to each other and to the Scriptor’s danger. Adrien met her eyes.

“Are you okay?” she mouthed. Footsteps, rounding the shelf.

Adrien winked, _“_ Being in situations like this gives me an _Adrien-aline_ rush.”

Marinette face palmed just as Chloe appeared, eyes unfocused and skin cut with black tattoos. She was looking, initially, for the book, but as soon as she saw them she turned back and dropped her jaw, screeching. The sound was horrible and grating, high pitched like an incessant like something broken and calling for attention.

“Well that’s not any different,” Marinette said, “she basically sounds the same as she does every day, no?”

“That’s not funny,” he said, although he didn’t look exactly disapproving.

More characters joined Chloe, responding to her screeching. They were all from Marinette and Adrien’s school. The characters advanced slowly at first, as if they were waiting for something, and indeed the Scriptor followed them. Marinette and Adrien nodded at each other and raised their weapons.

Marinette had her eyes only on the Scriptor, right there, her sash drooping. Marinette’s earrings shook in time with the Scriptor’s breath. In between her and becoming Ladybug? Only about seven classmates.

“Cover me,” Marinette said, yanking Chloe and Alix off balance. Adrien nodded shortly, the same determined look from earlier setting into his bright green eyes. Something was immediately trustable about him, something Marinette felt like she should already know. She didn’t have time to think about it.

She leapt up onto the closest shelf, finding a white-wire rack of encyclopaedias that was in perfect position. She climbed the shelf as the Scriptor said something that made wire rack she was planning to land upon burst into flames.

She changed her position mid-air and kicked aside the dangerous rack on her way to the ground. She had leapt over the mind-controlled characters, and was standing directly in front of the Scriptor.

“Don’t you know how this ends, Scriptor? In _every_ book, the villain never wins!” Marinette said, expertly twirling her yo-yo. The Scriptor laughed, evilly (how else?).

“Maybe this is a tragedy!” she said, “Like my life used to be.” Marinette squared her shoulders, thinking that was an odd thing for the Scriptor to say, and tossed her yo-yo.

The Scriptor dodged her attack and returned with one of her own. The Scriptor was trying hard, making sections of the floor crumble beneath her feet and turning books into birds of prey.

She hooked her yo-yo onto the sash and pulled. It loosened all the way, but the Scriptor grabbed a fistful of the cloth and kept it from Marinette’s grasp. Marinette pulled on her yo-yo string while the Scriptor yanked back on her sash in a straining tug of war.

“ _Deus Ex Machina!_ ” the Scriptor said, “ _Random heavy weight!_ ”

From the ceiling, a large boulder began to crash down. Marinette let go of her yo-yo and frantically dodged into a bookshelf. Her dive was sloppy, she hit the shelf with a bruising force.

“Marinette!” she head Adrien say. She looked up and saw her ally fighting with the Scriptor. A wake of dealt-with characters lay behind them. She had the sudden urge to call him _Chat_ , watching him fight. She and Chat Noir had been friends for long enough that she could recognize his fighting style. She hadn’t noticed before, but now she saw Adrien moved nearly identical to her _ally-cat_.

The Scriptor shoved back Adrien’s pole and he staggered backwards. Marinette leapt towards Adrien just as he leapt at the Scriptor with full force, poised in a balanced posture. Like a cat. He couldn’t be… could he?

The Scriptor and Adrien fell to the floor, wrestling for her sash, for her notebook, for Adrien’s head not to be stabbed by a fountain pen. Marinette strung her yo-yo around Adrien’s wrist, pulling him to safety as the Scriptor’s weapon splintered into the floor. The akuma’s white knuckled fist released the pen. She ripped a page out of her notebook and slid it with surprising momentum towards Adrien.

“ _Plot Hole!_ ” the Scriptor rasped. The raw anger sent chills down Marinette’s arms, and her grip on the sting loosened. The page turned black and opened up a portal underneath Adrien, dragging him into the hole. Marinette gripped the string with full force, trying to keep Adrien from falling away from her. She wouldn’t lose him, she absolutely _wouldn’t_ , but her palms stung through new bandages and her shoulder ached. The string slipped from her fingers, she grasped for it.

Adrien fell through the portal as an unsuspected shelf crashed into her, knocking her after him. She tumbled down into the black unknown, screaming and scrambling to find something, _anything_ , to grab hold of.

She was falling… why so much falling today? At least she was going with Adrien.

The Scriptor peeled away the edge of the portal. The circle of light faded and soon the light was much dimmer, the air colder, the shame thicker, and she could see the concrete floor of the basement rushing up to meet her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments ;) and thanks for the feedback on my update schedule— I'll keep it in mind :) 
> 
> Really, though, your comments give me life! Thank you all, so much!


	7. The Fruition of Dramatic Irony

Natural practice kicked in and Marinette landed on her feet after a roll, the noise echoing off far walls. She stood up to see Adrien had done the same. Her heart rate slowed, calmed immediately just by watching him and knowing he was near.

His acrobatic ability was really attractive, she had to admit, but also too unexplained to let go. He was too at ease in their current situation, he was hiding something. She wondered what his secret was, and whatever it was, she suspected it was more serious than his Ladybug fanship.

The dim light was fading faster. What was he hiding?

She met his eyes. Who _was_ this boy she thought she knew all about?

Then the light was gone.

“Adri—”

“Look out!” Adrien pushed her to the side with powerful force and she slid to the ground, yelping. Why had he—? She heard an ear-ringing clang of metal on concrete and flinched. Closing her eyes and opening them made no difference to her vision, she squinted futilely.

“Adrien?”

No response. She drew a short breath.

“Adrien!?” She would have given anything to have Chat Noir’s night vision.

“I’m here,” Adrien said calmly. She let out a breath.

“I can’t see,” Marinette said. There was a long pause, she listened for his breathing. Where were they, she wondered, did the Scriptor even know where she had sent them? What was that noise?

“Try to find the light switch.” He sounded like he was thinking, like he was measuring his words. Why? “Marinette?”

She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her. “Yes?”

“The wall,” Adrien said, “find the wall.”

Anchoring herself to his voice, his beautiful, perfect, familiar voice, she got to her knees, then her feet, and then to the wall. It was cold and rough under her fingers. She inched along the wall, squinting.

“You’re probably close,” Adrien said. Sure enough, she found a raised, smooth section of the wall. There was a lever. She pulled it.

A large creaking noise filled the room and from behind her a crack of light opened up from a garage-like door. Marinette turned around, blinking rapidly as light flooded the room.

“Marinette?” Adrien said. She turned around to face his voice, smiling, and immediately her heart dropped when she found that he was in a large cage. It was a massive birdcage with just enough space for two people, and Adrien was trapped. Her heartrate sped up as a sinking dread clawed at her stomach. She ran to him.

“Don’t panic, I’ll get you out of there!” Marinette said. She frowned, then started panicking herself. She paced the cage, uselessly pulling on the bars. This hadn’t gone as planned… now Adrien was trapped and they hadn’t even gotten the miraculouses.

“Marinette, stop,” Adrien said. She looked up, surprised by his calm tone.

He was smiling… why? Didn’t he know that they had practically failed, and…!

He was holding out his palm. She was dropped her eyes from his to see what he was holding. Resting in his palm were the miraculouses. She gasped, and then covered her mouth, thinking she must look so stupid with the smile that spread across her face.

“Adrien! That’s amazing—” she stopped herself, “…now once we get you out of there, we can give them back to Ladybug and Chat Noir.” It was suddenly very apparent that her happiness a moment ago seemed very premature in the face of her secret still being kept. At least Adrien seemed to have dropped his smile too.

“I guess so…” Adrien said, glancing around, “So… do you have a plan? It’s okay if you don’t.”

“Can I... can I see the earrings?” Marinette said, "Toss them to me?" God, this was so obvious, and Adrien wasn’t an idiot... but, it was like she didn’t want to hide from him anymore. It was ridiculous, he was still Adrien and she was still secretly Ladybug, what did that change?

Adrien threw them (looking slightly confused, or was it suspicious?) through the bars and she caught them, ready to run out of the room, but something stopped her. She was being stupid, she thought. She knew the smartest thing to do would be to leave, find Tikki, transform into Ladybug, and come back to use Lucky Charm on the cage, but she didn’t want to Leave Adrien.

“Go ahead,” Adrien said, “Go look for help, I… I have a plan. Get out of here while you can.” He sounded too calm, and if he was worried at all it was for a different reason than his being stuck in a cage.

“What’s your plan?” she asked, turning around and walking back. She could almost see his disappointment. Why was he so eager to get rid of her? Marinette thought she knew already.

“I can’t tell you,” replied Adrien, as she knew he would.

“I have a plan too,” she blurted out, “I won’t leave you.” _Damn_ , she hadn’t been planning to say that out loud. He was looking at her, a pensive frown on his face.

“Marinette,” Adrien began, his tone sounding so familiar (from where!?), “I have to do something, right now, and if you won’t leave, you have to promise not to tell anyone what happens here tonight.”

She couldn’t stop staring at him, but it wasn’t for her regular reasons. His beautiful wild blond hair, his exactly green eyes. It was something different.

“M-me too,” she said, her stutter returning for the first time in hours, “I mean, you can’t tell anyone what happens here tonight.” What was she thinking!? Was she about to turn into Ladybug right in front of him? And for what? She didn’t even know if he was… who she thought.

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” Adrien said. His words were sincere, void of the teasing tone she could so clearly imagine in his familiar voice. Something struck her, the same words. She had heard them before. Lady Wifi… Ladybug’s miraculous had been running out. Chat Noir wanted to get to know each other without their masks on…

She must have been standing silent for a long time, because Adrien prompted, “Marinette? You’re not planning to break me out of this cage just by staring at it, are you?” Immediately, he cringed and looked down, appearing too soft-spoken to have said such a teasing remark, but Marinette’s mind was working fast.

It hit her suddenly, but thinking about it made her realize she’d been puzzling it all day. She felt so accustomed to looking at Adrien, and not in the I’ve-been-staring-at-you-for-years-like-a-stalker-because-you’re-really-attractive way.

His voice was one that she had been listening to every week, every fight, every time she wore red and black. It was the voice that outlined plans of attack, the voice that flirted with her, that teased her, that comforted her when they were in sticky situations.

“Do what you’re planning,” she said, summoning all the courage she could manage, to speak to _Adrien Agreste_ like she would rebuff Chat Noir, “I won’t tell, or don’t you trust me, kitty-cat?”

Her hands were shaking. Oh god, what if she was wrong? Adrien looked surprised, his eyes wide, and for a terrible moment she thought she had gotten it all wrong. Adrien must think she was a lunatic—!

And then he smirked.

His eyes sparkled with the mischievous glint of a cat and she knew she had gotten it right. All of it, right. She drew in a sharp breath as he slipped on his ring and winked.

“Of course, my Lady.”  

As soon as his ring was on his finger, a small black cat appeared out of nowhere, floating unstably beside Adrien’s head. Adrien’s eyes lit up.

“Adrien!?” the small kitten asked, “Oh, my head… what happen—?”

“No time to explain. Plagg! Transform me!” Adrien said, holding out his ring. Plagg swirled into Adrien’s ring and Marinette watched in fascination while she clipped her earrings on. She’d never thought of her transformation as a performance, but watching Adrien made her change her mind. He was so flippant with the way he swiped his mask on. The way he ruffled his hair as his ears appeared was impossible not to smile at.

The moment her second earring was clipped on, Tikki popped up suddenly, spinning around in confusion.

“M-Marinette?” the little bug asked, “What’s happening?”

“Are you okay?” Marinette asked quickly, “I need to transform!”

“Y-yup!” Tikki said shakily, “I’ll be okay!”

Marinette nodded, worried, but prioritizing, “Tikki! Transform me!”

For the first time, her transformation was something of a dance. She wanted to look just as fascinating for Adrien as he had been to her. She twirled around, red and black spots painting over her arms. _Watch this!_ She wanted to say, _look at me, Adrien!_ Her transformation was an art, one that she knew well, and she ensured it would be something of a performance.

* * *

 Ladybug opened her eyes, feeling for the yo-yo on her side. It was there, it felt right. Immediately, she met her partner and crush’s eyes. Chat Noir looked back at her with bright green. Now that she knew who he was, it was so _obvious_! She wondered how she had never noticed before. Chat Noir and Adrien were the same height, had the same eyes, the same hair. They even had the same endearing laugh.

“Nice to have you back, Ladybug,” said the cat. It was so weird knowing who was under the mask.

“You too… Chat Noir.”

There was a pause when neither of them said anything, and then Chat spoke again,

“So you’re—”

“Yes.” Ladybug blushed and stood in front of the cage. Chat Noir took a step forward, grabbing the bars.

“Marinette—”

“Later,” she said. She reached through the bars, putting a finger to his lips. “We’ll talk later.”

It was easier to be bold with her mask on, like the single layer of fabric could protect her. When she was talking to Chat Noir and not to Adrien, it was calmer, even though she knew now that they were one in the same. She pulled her finger away from him, relaxing her shoulders. She couldn’t think about what it all meant right now, or she wouldn’t be able to focus on defeating the Scriptor.

“I’m looking fur-ward to it, my Lady,” answered Chat Noir, but the flirtatious tone was softer, and she could hear Adrien all over her kitty’s words. “Stand back. _Cataclysm!_ ”

His hands gathered their ancient destructive _paw_ -er and swiped at the bars. It was like nothing had changed—Ladybug and Chat Noir were back into their old routines. The bars crumbled and Ladybug offered her hand to Chat. He took her hand as he carefully stepped over the lip of the cage. It was an unnecessary touch, but an appreciated one on both sides.

“Thanks for helping _me-owt_ ,” he joked. Ladybug giggled despite herself. She couldn’t believe he was _still_ making jokes. At least his cat-puns were better than his own name puns.

“Stop it, we don’t have time to mess around,” Ladybug chided, “Come on!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, the moment we've all been waiting for, folks!
> 
> As always, thanks for the kudos and the comments, it always makes my day... honestly it's probably a little worrisome how readily I get hooked on feedback after posting anything... c'est ma vie, I suppose (and that is some of the only french I know after studying it for five years). 
> 
> More to come :)


	8. Miraculous Ladybug

Chat Noir’s mind was spinning fast as he and Ladybug ran up concrete steps and out of the basement. The rhythm of their steps was urgent, like they were, and both of them were anxious to finish this akuma.

 _Marinette_ , Chat Noir thought, _Ladybug is Marinette._

He had always wanted to know Ladybug’s identity, and he couldn’t believe his luck. Wasn’t he supposed to be the bad luck charm? _Marinette_.

Every time an akuma had attacked while he was with Marinette, she had been just as quick and keen to leave as he had been, not to mention full of illogical excuses after it was over.

She looked _exactly_ the same, she never even changed her hair. At least _his_ eyes became cat-like and his hair grew. He always felt bolder in his costume. Marinette… she looked… _~~beautiful~~_ exactly like Ladybug, and in personality was really quite similar.

“Chat Noir?” his Lady’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.

“Yes?” he replied, not managing to think of anything wittier.

“Did you even hear me?” She sounded annoyed and concerned at the same time, a tone befitting both Marinette and Ladybug. His mind stalled.

“I was distracted thinking, my Lady,” he said. She looked at him through her mask, it was so easy to imagine her without it, and he loved both of her equally in that instant. Then he remembered that either way, Marinette _and_ Ladybug only saw him as a friend. Rejected in the kindest way on _two_ fronts. _Damn_.

“Are you okay?” Ladybug asked, all of her Marinette. They were standing with their shoulders almost touching, then they were standing facing each other. He loved her. He couldn’t _think_ when he was with her, especially now that she _knew_. He felt like something intimate had been shared. Taking a deep breath, he tried to remember that now they were simply Chat Noir and Ladybug. _Say something nonchalant_ , he told himself.

“Whatever do you mean?” he said, all of him Chat Noir. She swallowed.

“Adri—” she began, making his heart lurch. He wanted her to say his name, his _real_ name, but she took a deep breath, and looked down, then up at him again. “Chat Noir,” she began again, leaving an empty space of disappointment inside his chest. “I want to think about this, but I can’t right now. You—” she bit her lip, “Focus, Chat. Don’t think about who I really am.” She sounded sad herself.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because…” she hesitated, “I _wish_ I was your Lady.” His heart leaped again, at the confidence that she showed. There was something more to her words, more than mere friendship.

“Why does that—”

“Chat Noir,” she cut him off, finality in her voice, “It’s been a long day.”

He tried to get back on focus, feeling stupid for putting his emotions first. He sighed. She _had_ said they were going to talk later, he should wait for that. _You’ve waited this long,_ he thought to himself, _so wait a little longer_. He always had been more relaxed as Chat Noir, and why should Ladybug knowing change that? _Well… actually—_

Chat Noir looked at Ladybug, a flirtatious smile on his lips. “I hope my _com-paw-ny_ made it shorter.”

Ladybug’s eyes widened briefly, her mouth agape. Her cheeks flushed and then she quickly recovered herself. “There’s the kitty I know.”

“Of course,” he said, “So, what’s the plan, my Lady? My miraculous is running out.” To illustrate the point, his ring chimed.

“Right,” Ladybug said, “we have to do this with stealth. If we jump right into the open, Hawkmoth will be able to figure it out pretty easily.”

“You don’t think he already knows?” Chat Noir replied, “We haven’t exactly been subtle.”

“I know… but there’s no changing that now. We just have to hope.”

They ran the rest of the steps, not very far, and hid around a corner. Ladybug peeked around the corner and Chat got a nice glimpse of her nicely figured body. Damn, Ladybug was pretty hot. She tucked herself back into the corner. _Focus, Chat_.

“The Scriptor’s back is to us, standing on a pile of books,” she said, “Time to use… _Lucky Charm_.” She said the customary phrase, but no louder than she had been talking a few moments before, stealth and all that.

A flirting opportunity occurred to him, but he had already been distracted enough, he tucked it away for later.

She tossed her yo-yo up into the air and it spun around as hearts flew from it, converging in a clump of pink to create…

“A scarf?” Ladybug questioned. In her hands was a long red and black spotted scarf that pooled at her feet.

“I know you promised to make me a scarf, Ladybug, but I feel like this is cheating.”

Ladybug hardly scoffed at that one. “It wasn’t _Ladybug_ who promised _Chat Noir_ a scarf,” she said, and immediately she set to work trying to figure out how to use her Lucky Charm. He could see her mind working as she looked around the room… God, she was so smart. His heart fluttered.

“I’ve got it!”

She explained the plan. It was a fairly simple plan, as plans went. The two crept around the corner quietly, the Scriptor’s back coming into view.

He weighed his pole in his hands and then nodded to his Lady as she climbed onto it. She had the scarf wrapped around her arms loosely. Chat Noir extended it towards the Scriptor and she balanced with perfect, attractive, skill. He stopped when he thought she was the right distance away. She prepared the scarf.

There was a moment of pause, they both held their breath.

Suddenly, his second ring-warning beeped just as Ladybug swiped with the long scarf at the Scriptor’s eyes, effectively tying a blindfold around the akuma victim. The Scriptor yelled in surprise, clawing out with her hands for whomever had blinded her.

“I told you,” Ladybug said cheerily, “this is how _every_ story ends!”

The Scriptor opened her mouth. “ _Simile! The— mph!_ ” Ladybug shoved the scarf into the Scriptor’s mouth, silencing her.

The akuma-victim struggled while Ladybug wrapped the scarf around the Scriptor’s ears to block sound, and then twirled around the underside of the pole as Chat Noir held her steady. She tied up the Scriptor’s legs and arms and soon the Scriptor fell over, tumbling down a pile of books, screaming unintelligibly through the thick cloth. His (beautiful, smart, badass, miraculous) Ladybug caught the black notebook of the Scriptor’s and threw it to him while holding the scarf tight.

“Chat Noir! Catch!” Ladybug said.

It was a perfect throw, they were quite the team. Once it was in his claws, he ripped it in half, destroying the akuma object himself for probably the first time ever. A small black moth flew from the pages. Ladybug slid over to him, down a mountain of books.

“You’ve done enough harm, little akuma!” she said, swinging her glowing yo-yo like a pendulum before twirling it around her body in a dance that always left him in awe. “I free you from evil!” The black carrier of evil was caught, “Gotcha!”

“Bye-bye, little butterfly!” Ladybug said, watching it fly away. She pulled the scarf from the Scriptor. “Miraculous Ladybug!”

The familiar swirl of destruction-healing pink expanded from the scarf, straightening the shelves, brightening the lights. Soon, everything was back to normal and the akuma victim on the floor had turned back into a young woman who resembled her supervillain counterpart in the way that Alya had looked like Lady Wifi.

“Well done!” Ladybug and Chat Noir said at once. They fist-bumped, and for the first time he took note of how comfortable their routines felt. Ladybug smiled at him, a tired but friendly smile. He stared at her, breathing evenly and looking at him with piercing blue eyes. He was lost in her gaze. Was this now when they were going to talk? In front of… what even was the name of the akumatized woman?

“Follow me,” she said, jerking her head up. There was an open skylight above them, showcasing the clear Paris night sky dotted with stars that had seeped into the twilight in the hours since they arrived. Her earrings beeped as she cast her yo-yo through the skylight. He followed her into the uncertain darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the quick defeat of the Scriptor... as easy as it seemed? And what about Hawkmoth?
> 
> I really appreciate all the comments and bookmarks (I just checked those), as well as the kudos. You all inspire me so much to write more, and to improve the quality of my writing. I can't tell you enough how surprised I was and still am about how many people actually like this, so thank you all so much!
> 
> There's two more chapters— a final chapter and then an epilogue... stay tuned :)


	9. A Simple Chat

Ladybug retracted her yo-yo and took a few steps forward, waiting for Chat Noir… for Adrien… for—

Chat Noir rode his pole like an elevator up though the skylight and then tipped himself forward onto the roof. He shut the skylight behind him. He met her eyes, and then uncharacteristically tensed, his confident posture unsure. She didn’t know how to react…

“Are you… are you hurt?” asked Ladybug.

“ _No-ir_ you?” Chat Noir punned. So, he was just nervous. So was she.

Ladybug giggled, “That’s good.” She supposed this was the part where they talked. Her earring beeped, in harmony with his ring. “I should go—” she said, despite the fact that there was no need for secrecy now.

“Wait,” said her kitty. She stopped, and retracted her yo-yo string. He was waiting expectantly. “You promised me a _Chat_.” He grinned, an expression that was so Adrien and so Chat Noir at the same time. She backed up so she stood on the edge of the roof, but she wasn’t worried about the roof; she was worried about making a fool of herself in front of her biggest crush and her partner.

When her silence prevailed too long, it was Chat Noir who spoke again. “Paris looks beautiful at night. I don’t think I’ve ever told you I think that. It’s one of the reasons I like being Chat Noir… I get to see things like this.” He gestured to the city lit by golden lights, sparkling underneath them. The Eiffel Tower stood tall and whole again. “It looks like the Scriptor was never even here, no?”

Ladybug turned around, her heart a-flutter. _Adrien_ liked looking at the Paris skyline, he was such a romantic. “That’s what happens when I use Lucky Charm,” she said. It was both too hard and too easy to see Chat Noir as Adrien, his two personalities fought with each other in her memory. She swallowed nervously as he took a step towards her.

“You always manage to charm _me,_ love bug.” He looked at her with that _look_ , the look he wore on his posters, the look Chat Noir used to flirt, except it was the _same look._                                                                        

And _Adrien_ had just called her _love bug_. “I— uh— um—” Ladybug was sure her face was turning bright red, enough to match her costume. Adrien was flirting with her! Well, Chat Noir was flirting with her, but Adrien was—

She backed up, flustered, and tripped off the edge of the roof. Oh great, so much for not embarrassing herself. Chat Noir leapt forward and caught her hand, pulling her back up and close to him.

He looked at her, that damn beautiful _Adrien_ look on his masked face. “Woah there, does my Lady need me to whisk-her away from danger?” he said. She pulled herself together, pushing him away, and then she walked a good few feet from the ledge just to be safe.

She had always assumed that if Adrien flirted with her, he would be sweet and entirely genuine. On the other hand, she had always assumed Chat Noir meant absolutely nothing with his sweet words. What did this mean if they were the same person?

“Chat Noir, stop. I need to ask you something,” she said, turning her head over her shoulder.

“Anything for you.” He bowed, he actually bowed. _Damn it, stop being attracted to this cat._ What if Chat really didn’t mean anything, and neither did Adrien? What if now that he knew who she was, he was disappointed and didn’t want anything to do with her other than weekly fights with monsters. Rejected on two fronts by one of her best friends and her crush. _Damn._

She took a measured breath and faced him. “When you flirt with me, do you really mean it, or is it all just a game?”

He looked surprised by her query, like the thought she had suggested had never even occurred to him.

“I mean it,” he said, surprising her. His eyes softened, looking like the sweet civilian Adrien even though he was still in black leather. “I always mean every word.” He paused. “I love you, Ladybug.” It was so tender, she couldn’t help but believe it, and she suddenly remembered he had started to tell her something last Valentine’s Day, was this it? A small laugh bubbled to her lips.

“What?” Chat Noir asked, his word timed with both of their miraculouses beeping.

“It’s just… it doesn’t match up,” Ladybug said. “Chat Noir loves Ladybug while I… while Marinette has had a crush on Adrien for, well, for a long time.”

He was listening intently, and she knew he picked up on her differentiation in the two names. “Does that change now that I’m…?” _Chat Noir_ , she filled in for him.

“I was going to ask you that… but about me.” Chat Noir had said he loved Ladybug, and she believed him. But what about Marinette?

He walked towards her, taking her hand. She didn’t pull away as she usually would. “No,” he said, “It doesn’t change a thing.” He was so wonderful… she couldn’t help but stare at him.

“No? Really?”

He backpedalled suddenly, dropping her hand, “I mean… unless _you_ don’t _want_ — I’m sorry, w-what do you—does it, I mean?”

He was cute flustered, just like Adrien _. Of course, they’re the same person!_

“Chat, to be honest the only reason I never responded to your… flirting, is because I thought you didn’t mean it. And. And because I’m completely in love with Adrien—” _Well. I didn’t mean to let that out so quickly._ “I mean you— I mean n-not _completely in love_ , but just—”

“I’ve never seen you flustered before,” Chat interrupted her. Flustered? She was _sure_ she’d stuttered like a lunatic in front of Adrien _many_ times.

“Oh sure you have.”

“Not like _this_.” He gestured to her black spots.

“Oh,” she said lamely. They both looked down awkwardly, neither of them having a clue of what to say.

His last paw print was flashing in warning. Her dots were dwindling closely too. Both of them took a breath together, not sure what to do.

She stared at him, hard, and it was like something broke. The barrier between Adrien and Chat Noir was non-existent. It had always been him, and now he was standing there, looking gorgeous and loving her back. Chat Noir really _was_ as attractive as Adrien Agreste, a bit wilder, definitely darker, but still goddamned perfect. His ring gave a final beep and something in her told her to look away, but she didn’t. Instead, she watched in fascination as green light enveloped him, turning him back into Adrien.

“Hi,” he said, absently catching a wilted-looking Plagg who had spun out of the ring. And there they were, Adrien who loved Ladybug and Ladybug who loved Adrien. She took a deep breath and her heart went wild, beating with a sudden rush of adrenaline as she stepped forward, standing on her toes because he was so _tall_ , and kissed him.

He was clearly surprised, but he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back. Her eyes were closed, but she could hear the final beep of her own miraculous and felt the energy wash over her. She saw light behind her eyelids.

They broke apart, then they were Marinette and Adrien again. This was the boy she had spent the entire day with, this was the boy who loved both of her. She loved both of him, _all_ of him. Sure, she was Marinette now but everything she thought she knew about Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste had just been flipped on its head, and so…

“Adrien,” she said, daring her voice to shake on her, “would you like to go out with me?”

He looked surprised for half a second, then without hesitation he grabbed her hand again and bowed, kissing it.

“I would love to, my Lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the thing... this was supposed to be the end, but I actually wrote an extra, short epilogue just for you. So, technically, you don't have to read the epilogue if you don't want (but please do). There wouldn't be a nice ten chapters without the comments, kudos, and bookmarks, so here's a virtual one of these to all of you: 
> 
> http://rlv.zcache.com/ladybug_thank_you_card-r1b099e6d639f4f6c848aa7d436d78cb6_xvua8_8byvr_324.jpg


	10. Epilogue

It was an unspoken rule that everyone watched the news the evening after an akuma attack. Usually, coverage of that sort was intercut with clips of the famous superhero duo swinging around the rooftops, and interviews live from the aftermath, but it was different this time.

News feeds that Friday night were a collage of cellphone videos and witness accounts of how in the absence of Ladybug and Chat Noir, two ordinary, brave teenagers— Marinette Dupain-Cheng and the model Adrien Agreste— had stepped in where no one else had.

Ladybug and Chat Noir only made an appearance at the very end, to say some quick words.

“The Scriptor had us captured,” Ladybug explained, “That’s why we showed up so late.”

Chat Noir nodded in agreement, “We owe our thanks to Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She was the one who found me, and she helped us defeat the Scriptor.”

“Don’t forget Adrien Agreste,” Ladybug interjected, “It was Adrien who made it possible for both of us to be here.” She smiled at her partner and maybe the two were standing closer than they normally did.

Shippers would say that Ladybug looked at Chat Noir differently that night, like one in love instead of just friends like they had always been.

“Where are your saviors now?” asked the reporter.

“We sent them home,” Chat Noir said.

“Yes, much safer there,” Ladybug agreed.

“How convenient,” the reporter said, turning to the camera, “We have a team on route to Adrien Agreste’s house for an interview. We’re still trying to find the address for Marinette Dupain-Cheng, but stay tuned for an exclusive pair of interviews with two unlikely heroes.”

“And interview with Adrien?” Chat Noir repeated quickly, “That sounds like it will be really _cat-ivating_! Best of luck!” He bowed, and said softly, “My Lady, I will see you very soon.” He kissed her hand before he left, and Ladybug actually blushed as Chat Noir pounced out of frame.

Alya’s Ladyblog lit up like that overachieving neighbor’s house at Christmas time. The shippers went wild, but Alya was away from her computer for most of the evening. She was intently watching the news for her best friend—her best friend who had been swinging around Paris all day in quite a _perfect_ imitation of the very subject of Alya’s blog.

Ladybug soon left too, immediately after the reporter mentioned an interview with the baker’s daughter, and everyone in Paris watched avidly as Marinette stuttered though humble deflections of praise and Adrien kindly tried to get the cameras to leave.

* * *

High above the city lights, the television screen static-ed. It was hard to get a consistent signal this high in the air. Cheery words from the television echoed through empty halls where only the hum of an airship’s engine could be heard.In a dark room with mechanical windows pressed shut, the eerie whispering of a million wings on sleeping butterflies.

A dark figure observed the girl on the screen and imagined her with a spotted mask. His fingers came up to the screen, running along the edges of her face, noticing the shape. The harsh light cast blue shadows across his arms.

In the dark, Hawkmoth schemed.

 

LA FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is done! (Read that in an ominous voice, despite there being no reason to) 
> 
> For final time in this story, THANK YOU! There is more gratitude I have than I can convey, but I have tried in the limited 26 characters I have in the English language. Your comments, kudos, and bookmarks never fail to make my day. I hope you all enjoyed this story, and if you did could you please maybe show it to other people you think might enjoy it (that's just a request, don't feel obligated to listen to me if you don't want to)? 
> 
> In any case, thank you so much! Here is a petit Chat Noir:  
> https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/44/de/41/44de416d113ef228240977c7c9f0cdc1.jpg


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